


Red like Fire

by Yulons



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 18:02:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18255026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yulons/pseuds/Yulons
Summary: Everyone's world is grey until they see their soulmate-- only then do they see the colors of the world.





	Red like Fire

**Author's Note:**

> you know those ideas you think about and are like "man someone should write that, but not me"? yeah, same, except i decided to do it. probably not my best idea because i have the worst history with updating fics! but hey, this could be The One. the rating may change in the future depending on how explicit i wanna go, so be warned 'bout that.

Flemeth didn’t talk to her about colors or soulmates. Every time she asked, her mother had been elusive, so much so that it would anger Morrigan and she’d give up on getting that kind of information out of her. The only way Morrigan ever found out about the existence of colors was through the books she read. They described colors by names like red, yellow and blue. She learned that fire was red and yellow, and a color in between called orange. The frost she could summon to her fingertips was blue and also colorless, the bright white she could already see in her greyscale world. The grass is green, which she learned was between yellow and blue, but it can also be yellow and brown if it’s dead. Brown was the color of tree bark, but bark could also be white if it was a birch. It had fascinated her at first, piqued her curiosity-- she wanted to know more.

But Flemeth had made it clear that such frivolities didn't matter. After all, she couldn't see the colors, and she knew what her mother wanted her to do with her life. That wasn't the kind of life where you met a soulmate. So she studied more practical things and stopped thinking about how pretty the blue of her ice magic might be if she could see it.

* * *

Morrigan didn’t want to deal with being in the presence of the Circle mage Warden, and even less so with the bumbling former Templar who seemed to have less going on in his head than the dog that had imprinted on Amell. But her mother had offered her up to the Wardens and their quest to end the upcoming Blight without so much as a glance in her direction for an opinion. Amell was agreeable, at least, and seemed to value her voice and advice, despite being little more than a bird recently freed from its prison. That’s why, after they stocked up in Lothering, they were going to head for the Dalish elves first rather than to Redcliffe like the fool wanted.

They steered clear of the Chantry, despite Alistair’s insistence. Amell had a distaste for it after being locked up and Morrigan thought they were all fools, and what help could a fool be? Alistair had yet to prove himself, after all. So they skipped straight to the tavern to buy some food to last them until they could reach the Dalish.

“Well, look what we have here, men. I think we’ve just been blessed.” The voice was smug and whatever interest Morrigan had in the conversation dropped once Alistair started speaking. The betrayer’s men-- Loghain, if she remembered right. She’d simply follow Amell’s lead.

“Gentlemen, surely there is no need for trouble.”

The new voice caught Morrigan’s attention away from preparing to defend herself. Her head lifted and-- _oh._

She didn’t have time to contemplate the Chantry robes the woman was wearing or the pretty lilt of her words. No, Morrigan was too busy taking in just how different everything looked. She’d never thought greyscale to be boring-- she had had nothing to compare it to-- but now she could never imagine going back. The woman’s hair was so bright and Morrigan scrunched her eyebrows in thought. What color was that? In her fist, she conjured the smallest crystal of ice. That was blue, she remembered, but it didn’t match the woman’s hair. Before she could try something else, a fight was breaking out.

Grunting, she encased the nearest agitator in ice and-- oh, it is gorgeous-- watched as the bright haired woman shattered the frozen prison with her dagger, casting fractals around. Morrigan almost didn’t keep fighting, entranced by the vision. However, Morrigan was many things, but she wasn’t the type to become stricken by silly things like how pretty she thought the color of the woman’s hair was reflected off the blue of the ice. So she continued casting, engulfing the man in front of her in flames and _there_ it is-- it **matched.** The red of her flames, the woman’s hair was the same color and Morrigan was getting tired of calling things gorgeous, but being able to name the color of her hair made something in her chest flutter unexpectedly.

The fight was over quickly, with the last remaining man surrendering and pleading for his life. His words didn’t interest Morrigan, she was too busy listening to the woman’s voice. It was foreign, but the witch wouldn’t know where from.

Her name was Leliana, and her voice was so happy and bright, like she’d just gotten the best gift of her life and that’s when it hit Morrigan. Leliana saw colors now, too, right? They were.. soulmates, right? So that would explain the happiness but she hasn’t even looked in Morrigan’s direction yet. Her gaze is so firmly locked onto Amell, hanging on the Warden’s every word like a puppy and fluttering her eyelashes like a schoolgirl with a crush-- oh.

The lightness in Morrigan’s chest fell, crushed by the sudden weight of realization. Was she.. not Leliana’s soulmate? Morrigan didn’t let her thoughts go further into the sadness that was waiting at the end of that train of thought, switching to anger. Anger was easier, after all, and not quite as vulnerable. Flemeth was right, the whole thing was frivolous and meant nothing. So she could see colors now, what did it matter? It didn’t. Not at all.

* * *

“You’re very beautiful, Morrigan.”

Morrigan had to stop herself from wincing when she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. The redhead had spent the better half of the day trying to get Amell’s attention, and she obviously decided to give up on that endeavor for now. The Circle mage was polite enough with Leliana, but that was all. It was kind of polite where you smile in hopes that someone will simply leave you alone and all the while you’re clenching your teeth to stop from saying something to offend them or worse, make them keep talking. Morrigan, fortunately, has no qualms about offending the sister. It was not like they were friends, after all, or anything more. “Tell me something I do not know.”

That just made Leliana smile wider, her blue (prettier than the ice, the witch thought absently) eyes sweeping over Morrigan’s form with exceeding interest. She should have been livid at such gawking, but she wasn’t. She gave a grunt of disgust, but it was halfhearted and did nothing to deter the woman. “But you always dress in such rags!” Leliana’s voice was indignant-- as if her _rags_ were a great offense to her cultured sensibilities. But she clicked her tongue and shrugged. “It suits you, I suppose. A little tear here, a little rip there to show some skin. I understand.”

“You understand I lived in a forest, I hope?” Morrigan questioned a bit harshly, hoping to scare off Leliana. Any camaraderie that the woman was hoping to establish would be useless. It would not stop the Blight. It would not help in their battles. It was frivolous, just like the rainbow of colors she could see now thanks to this talkative Chantry sister who did not return their apparent bond.

It did nothing to deter Leliana, and the woman started to ramble. “Maybe we could get you in a nice dress one day.” Her voice was wistful-- like she was remembering a better time. “Silk. No, maybe velvet. Velvet is heavier, better to guard against the cold in Ferelden.” Her eyes dropped down to Morrigan’s chest, lighting up with an idea. “That color-- red, yes? Your dress should be dark red velvet, with gold embroidery, like your jewelry. It should be cut low in the front, of course. We don't want to hide your features.”

Morrigan felt a growl in the back of her throat. She didn’t want to be dressed up by Leliana, the woman who caused her to see beautiful colors only to fawn over another. Just wanting an end to this conversation, the witch turned her body away from Leliana. “Stop looking at my breasts like that, ‘tis most disturbing!”

“You don't think so?” She wasn’t fazed. No matter what Morrigan did, the fool seemed intent on talking even if it was to herself. “And if it's cut low in the front we must put your hair up to show off that lovely neck.”

That was it. Morrigan turned back to the sister, poking a finger at her chest aggressively. “You are insane.” She stressed. “I would sooner let Alistair dress me!” With that, she stomped off, intent on walking alone and preferably far away from the talking woman.

“It'll be fun, I promise! We'll get some shoes too! Ah, shoes! We could go shopping together!” She was still talking, but Morrigan didn’t care anymore. She just needed to get away. Her mind briefly considered the fact that Leliana was being friendly, kind even, but that line of thought was quickly squashed for the anger she felt towards Leliana for simply existing. If she kept pushing her away, she’d get the hint eventually. Even the dimwitted Alistair learned to stop trying to talk to her. Leliana would be no different.

**Author's Note:**

> there's no original dialogue yet, and i apologize for that. i wanted to establish morrigan's feelings about the situation through the lens of a familiar banter. future chapters will be original scenes.


End file.
